


Can I help you?

by Hessy



Series: The Ranger Mishaps [4]
Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Airport AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I wrote this instead of studying, M/M, Modern AU, information worker!crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23117704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hessy/pseuds/Hessy
Summary: Halt is a professional traveller, but lately, it never goes well for him at the airport. However, there's always this redhead who's more than willing to help.
Relationships: Crowley Meratyn/Halt O'Carrick
Series: The Ranger Mishaps [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696990
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Can I help you?

Halt was used to travelling by plane. As a governmental officer, he often had to leave the country and – such misfortune - he always got seasick when he went by boat. So, due to these things, he was well familiar with the Araluen airport, located in the mainland near the capital city.

It was a simple process, really. Go to the check-in desk, get a boarding pass, go through the passport control, security check. Halt knew it all. He could practically waltz around the airport with his eyes closed.

One day, however, it all changed. Well, not all of it. Mainly the passport control. Where once stood real, living people, there were now machines. Halt and machines didn’t go together. If he even passed his own microwave, it broke down, and Halt always had to spend such a ridiculous amount of money to get it repaired.

These machines came with an animated manual subtitled in several languages. Halt took out his diplomatic passport and frowned at the small screen. It seemed simple enough.

Just when he was about to put his passport inside of the machine, _he_ appeared. A man with a bright green uniform of the airport’s information workers. He had red hair and he was smiling at him.

“Hello, can I help you?” he asked, completely oblivious to the fact that Halt was giving him his famous death glare. Still, he politely declined.

“No, thank you. I know how to do this.” As it turned out three seconds later, he did NOT know how to do it. He put a wrong page inside the machine. Halt didn’t notice this, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see the information worker standing a few feet away, looking at him with anticipation.

“Do you want help?” the guy asked again, trying to hide his smile. Halt had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Really, he got this. So he rejected his offer for the second time and tried again.

Machines truly seemed to hate him. After he put his passport in for a second time, correctly if I may add, a red icon showed up telling him to go to the police officer. Halt narrowed his eyes at the screen. When people were doing the passport check, it was so much better. Why did the management of the airport think this was better? Halt glanced at a sign telling him that this was a much easier way to pass the check. As if, Halt thought.

He took out his passport, determined to not deal with that thing for the third time when the information guy swept in.

“You should try pressing it down,” he suggested. Halt paid him no mind and continued on his merry way to the police. He left the man standing there as he made his way through the control.

From now on, whenever Halt travelled, he had the luck to meet this guy. Apparently, he belonged to a new team of information workers that was created after the installation of these machines to help people pass through easily (not that Halt cared. He certainly never, ever opened the airport’s website to do a small research. Not at all). Halt tried his best to avoid them, but he was never completely safe since they were everywhere. Well, almost. At least they didn’t occupy the toilets.

The next time Halt passed through the new passport control was when he returned from Skandia. It was around noon and there were only two workers in bright green T-shirts that pegged them as members of this new team. Neither of them had red hair though and Halt relaxed.

He didn’t need help this time. He remembered the words of the redhead and pressed his passport down and it actually worked! His happiness didn’t last long. The machine broke down when he was inside and it took forever to get him out.

When he was inside of it for a few minutes already, he exasperatedly turned his head towards the information workers who were watching him like hawks.

“Sorry, you have to wait! We’re not in charge of those,” he heard a vaguely familiar voice and of course, there he was. Halt sighed. He was totally going to file a complaint against these stupid, useless things!

“How long?” he shot back. He was unusually grumpy – well, grumpier today. His flight was delayed by four hours and by now he was supposed to be in an important meeting. Instead, he was stuck at the airport. In this demonic machine. What a great day.

The redhead leaned against the device. For a second he looked somewhere behind Halt, where the baggage reclaim was, then replied: “Don’t know. A police officer has to come and get you out.”

He smiled. Halt wasn’t sure why; he was stuck here. It seemed as though the information worker wanted to chat while he was trapped. There weren’t many people around he could help, he must’ve been incredibly bored.

“Don’t worry. This is not that bad of a situation. I mean, the machine’s still working. At least from where I’m standing.” Halt narrowed his eyes at him and turned around so he faced the exit, leaned against the shiny silver wall of the compartment, and waited. He was not in a mood to chat.

The next time Halt took the plane actually was not an official journey. No, it was something much more frightening. He was going on a family vacation with his brother and sister to Arrida. Halt hated holidays with a passion and it didn’t help that his younger brother always tried to play tricks on him. While his younger siblings were outfitted for a proper vacation (Caitlyn wore a pretty summer dress and Ferris had a dark blue shirt with flamingos printed on it, shorts and a straw hat), Halt was dressed in his formal attire. He wasn’t about to embarrass himself at the airport where some of the check-in workers already knew him (if not in person then by sight); it would ruin his entire reputation.

As they stood below the departures board and waited for their check-in number to appear, they heard a very cheerful voice: “Hello, can I help you?”

Halt didn’t even have to look to know who it was. “Oh. It’s you,” he grumbled under his breath quietly. Unfortunately for him, Caitlyn heard him since she was standing just a few feet away.

She looked between the two of them. “You know each other?” she asked, curiosity seeping through her voice.

She was given two different answers.

“Of course,” said the stranger.

“We’ve... met,” Halt admitted. Caitlyn took in his expression and decided to not pursue this matter further. Instead, she smiled and looked at the guy’s ID card that hung around his neck.

“Tell me, Mr. Crowley. What should I do if I’m terrified of flying?” Halt grumbled. That wasn’t true. Caitlyn had never been afraid of flying. If there was someone who would’ve run out of the airport if he could, it was Ferris. His younger brother was afraid even of his own shadow.

Crowley momentarily stiffened, then turned his ID card around and gave her a bright smile in return. Halt turned his attention back to the departures board and while he, in fact, did listen to what this Crowley guy had to say to Caitlyn, he just wanted this vacation to be over already. He noticed that Ferris moved in closer to them to get tips on how to conquer his fear of heights and they both listened intensely.

Halt had to admit; Crowley knew what he was talking about. Even though he tried to ignore his incomprehensible babbling, Halt couldn’t help but stand there. Both his younger siblings seemed to cling to his every word; it was fascinating what effect this guy had on people.

But, he wasn’t beating around the bush and actually gave them helpful tips which surprised Halt a little. From how their last meeting went down, he assumed that this Crowley cracked jokes on every occasion he got, so seeing him act so responsible had taken him aback.

“And what if I travel by myself? What should I do?” Caitlyn asked, pulling Halt over to her. He wasn’t sure why he did that, though. He did NOT want to listen to Crowley’s excited babbling. He already knew how the airport worked. If Caitlyn wanted to know, then fine, but he could be getting a coffee that very moment and he wouldn’t complain in the slightest. 

At one point during the conversation, he met Crowley’s eyes. An unusual feeling shot through Halt, but he shrugged it off fairly easily and broke the eye contact. He patiently listened to the end and let Crowley tell Caitlyn everything she wanted to know. Afterwards, his little sister spent the whole vacation talking about how amazing this guy's advice was, and Halt couldn't help but think that maybe she had a small crush on Crowley. 

His concerns about whether he had to go break someone's neck were in vain as Caitlyn introduced her new boyfriend to them two weeks after they returned from Arrida. 

The next time the two met, Crowley was in a tight situation, getting yelled at by a passenger whose flight had been delayed by three hours, and when he wanted to use the coffee machine, it just ate his money and he had no coffee. 

Halt could hear Crowley say: "I'm sorry about the inconvenience, sir, but there is no way I can solve your problems. Can I suggest calling the number on the machine and telling them it doesn't work? Or there is a nice coffee shop if you continue in that direction." 

The passenger didn't listen and tried to argue some more. Crowley sighed exasperatedly and run his hand through his red hair. This was proving to be a difficult day for him and this person certainly didn't help. 

"Yeah, well, I’m sorry, I can't do anything about it," Crowley said and half-turned to leave before he was stopped by another passenger who was on the same flight. 

An elderly woman came up to him and started complaining in broken English. "You give us the wrong information! You say check-in open at five but it’s opened now!" 

Crowley's tired eyes looked over to where the check-in for the flight to Teutland was supposed to be. Indeed, they were open already. Around the check-in desk were tons of people belonging to other flights. 

Halt watched as a man with an ID card in a business suit came up to Crowley and they chatted for a while, from time to time looking at the chaos near the check-in desks. That must be his boss, Halt thought. Actually, he had no desire to go check himself in, mainly because he also had a reservation for that Teutland flight.

Crowley continued to walk around, asking people if they wanted help. Eventually, he got to Halt. 

"Hello, sir, can I help you?" he repeated his default phrase as Halt had heard it twenty times for the last fifteen minutes. Halt saw the hopeful look in his eyes. So many people rejected his help, some because of the language barrier, some because they were aware of what to do. Halt would have to disappoint Crowley yet again. 

"No, thank you," he politely declined. Crowley sighed. 

"Do you know the number of your check-in?" He asked. Halt scoffed. Of course, normal people didn't have the airport's mobile app where they could easily access this information, but Halt already knew what his check-in was, and right now, it was swarmed with people. 

But Crowley looked so eager to help someone and Halt gave in. "No, I don't know the number but maybe you could tell me?" 

Crowley visibly perked up. "Of course," he all but shouted. A bright smile appeared on his face as he opened an application similar to Halt's and asked: "Could you tell me your destination and the departure time, please?" 

Halt told him the details with skilled precision that he practiced ever since he got his job. It was fundamental to listen to and remember the useless things that some diplomats let out of their mouths. 

Crowley's bright smile disappeared as he looked through his iPad. 

"That's check-in number 125 and 126," he said and waved his hands in the direction of the crowd. "Over there," he added quickly, then went silent as he studied Halt's expression carefully like he wasn't sure if he wasn't about to get yelled at for yet another time.

Halt may have been displeased that his flight was delayed, but he sure wasn't about to shout at some poor airport employee, even as one as annoying as Crowley. It wasn't his fault the plane didn't arrive on time and he was trying his best. 

"Thank you," he said simply, grabbed his suitcase and went over to wait in the (non-existent) line. 

Their next meeting happened a month later. Really, Halt was getting quite sick seeing Crowley every damn time he had to take the plane, but the night before his trip, he stood in the shower and a stray thought invaded his brain. Halt, with an expected amount of surprise, discovered that he actually wouldn't mind seeing Crowley again. Even though the guy could be annoying as hell, the few times he talked to him proved that he was in fact a pretty good company. 

Halt dismissed the thought when he stepped out of the shower. There was no use dwelling on something like that. 

But here he was, yet again waiting under the departures board for his check-in desk to open. And, of course, he could already guess by the mane of red hair who exactly was the information worker for today. Halt could swear that Crowley never even left the airport; he was there all the time. 

He was surprised when his bad mood (he didn't have time for his morning coffee. He had to get up at five o'clock in the morning and now, at almost six, none of the coffee shops was open yet) improved the second he saw him. He could tell that Crowley recognized him, too. He smiled tiredly and went to him. 

"Hello, can I help you?" He also sounded tired. Halt never had night shifts, but after seeing this poor guy barely stand, nobody could ever convince him to take on night shifts. 

"No, thank you," he declined his offer, even though he immediately regretted it. He was never a social butterfly, but, for some reason, he wanted Crowley to stay. 

However, Crowley knew when he wasn't wanted and made his way to the few people awake at this hour. Halt had to wait for another half an hour before Crowley came round again, stealing glances at him. 

In a matter of seconds before Crowley made his way to him, asking his default question. 

"You already asked," Halt grumbled. He crossed his arms on his chest. Crowley ran his hand through his hair. 

"Sorry, sir. You looked a little lost and I thought-" he cut himself off. Halt sighed. 

"You know what? If you really want to help me, you can go fetch a coffee."

Crowley looked both directions. Ah, there he was. His boss, Duncan, was strolling between some self-check-in machines. There was no way Crowley could abandon his position now. 

"Sorry, sir, but I can't really leave this place, even if it's to go for a coffee," he explained, taking in Halt's immediately irritated expression. 

"But," he continued quickly. "My shift's ending in fifteen minutes, so after that, we can go fetch a coffee? I could use some myself." 

Halt didn't even know he nodded. It must've happened though because Crowley went on to help other passengers before disappearing from sight. 

A few minutes later, a cheerful but tired voice came from behind him.

"So, shall we go fetch that coffee?" 


End file.
